


Tell Me A Story

by iamwrite



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Family Fluff, Family fun, Tumblr Prompt, We love fluff, the kids choose their own names and its cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 20:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18977785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamwrite/pseuds/iamwrite
Summary: Everyone has their own version of escape. Drawing, cooking, music... but the Hargreeves children all seem to find that they most enjoy following Number Six into the library to listen to him read. Queue family story time.Based on the prompt: the Umbrella Academy kids picking names and Klaus getting his from the "A Series of Unfortunate Events" novels would be great. Or anything fluffy and Klaus related, honestly





	Tell Me A Story

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the summary is shitty i haven't written anything in forever. i really enjoyed writing this (and having time to write at all finally) so i hope you enjoy it! message me if you have any prompts you would like to see written!

The lives of the Hargreeves children were less than normal. Everyone circumstance beginning from their birth had left the seven siblings vulnerable to imaginable amounts of grief, pain, and danger. Each one of them had their way of escaping, if only for a time, from the grim reality that was their lives. Number One found that running drills and sprinting miles helped to clear his head, channeling the emotional exhaustion into a physical one. Number Two liked to sit and watch Grace cross-stitch, the threading of the needle in constant and precise movements serving almost as a type of hypnosis. Number Three enjoyed painting, everything from a canvas to her fingernails to the makeup on her face; she liked the feeling that she could create something out of nothing and had the power to change it whenever she pleased. Number Four loved to design clothes. He would never be able to make or wear any of them considering his forced profession and uniform (not to mention the fact that sewing was not an activity approved for boys), but that didn’t stop him from filling sketchpad after sketch pad with drawings that would rival the runways in Milan. Number Five found solace in cooking, whether this was convincing Grace to let him help with her preparation of meals when he wasn’t training, or simply standing beside her and watching (this happened more often than not since trainings left him generally fatigued). Number Six was an avid reader, he found a kinship in tales of sorrow and monsters, allowing himself to momentarily project into a world where these horrors were not his own but someone else’s. Number Seven drowned herself in music. Once she picked up her father’s old violin, her fingertips itched for new pieces to learn and songs to play.

It is no surprise that these great escape artists would cross paths in their endeavors. Number Seven would bake cookies with Grace while the others were on missions, getting tips from Number Five on how to make the edges crispy while keeping the inside gooey. On their rare days off, Number Four would dress up Number Three in daring outfits, playing music on Number One’s record player and having her strut down the hall to show the others the costumes he had put together for their little fashion show—at the end of which Number Four would come out and bow, giving a small wave with fingernails freshly painted by his runway model. Number Two liked the quiet serenity that followed Number Six when he was tucked away in the corner of the library, enthralled in his latest novel, and would often come and just sit and share the silent peace.

Most of the children eventually followed suit in regards to this specific activity. While Number Two and Number Six still shared their private, hushed reading time, the others gradually began to gravitate toward the calm presence that surrounded Number Six when he was reading. This led to a Sunday night tradition amongst the kids, in which they would all drag pillows from their rooms and curl up next to the fire place in the library after dinner to listen to Number Six read books aloud. It was unspoken that no one talked during this time, unless to ask for clarification or for a part to be repeated. It was a sanctuary away from competition and petty disputes, granting each child the escape that it was.

They tore through every genre. Number Three and Number Four thought  _Crime and Punishment_  was a little dense, Number One loved  _Catch 22_  in all it’s confusing wartime glory, Number Five enjoyed the wit and sarcasm of  _Hamlet_ , and Number Seven reveled in anything written by Vonnegut (she used to say that “he writes the way music would sound if it were made of words”). The fan favorites, however, were the  _Series of Unfortunate Events_  books. To no one’s surprise, all the children felt a connection to the trials and tribulations faced by the Baudelaire orphans. They commiserated the loss of parents and a normal home life, the presence of overbearing and wicked adults who refused to listen, and the overall feeling that their life was indeed the result of a series of terribly lamentable factors.

They were gearing up to finish the third book in the series the night their father announced at dinner that they would be allowed to choose their own names, per approval from Grace. They were allotted twenty four hours to decide. While they all habitually gathered around Number Six near the fire that Sunday night, story time was recklessly abandoned with the excitement and approaching deadline regarding the choosing of their names.

“Should we try to do some sort of theme?” suggested Number Seven.

“Are you kidding? I have waited  _way_  too long for this to not make my own, very individual decision,” Number Three said, twisting her curls into a large bun that sat on top of her head.

“I don’t get why we have to be the ones to choose,” grumbled Number One. “I’m just gonna let Grace pick mine, she’ll know what Dad prefers anyway.”

“Sounds about right. Why think for yourself when you could have someone else do it for you?” Number Two mocked.

“Hey! No arguing during story time! You guys know the rules,” Number Four interjected with a disapproving wave of his hands in their direction, subtly scooting himself between the two to act as a physical barrier.

“Six isn’t even reading anything,” Number Five pointed out.

“Well it’s the principle.”

“Ben,” Number Six said softly.

“What?” Number Two asked.

“I think I like the name Ben.”

“That’s so boring,” Number Three laughed. Ben just shrugged.

“I think it suits you,” Number Seven offered with a small smile. Ben returned it with a shy grin of his own.

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, if we’re getting to choose our own names I’m gonna do something cool. Like Storm or Panther or Rocket,” Number Two said excitedly.

“You do realize that all those names just sound like the ones the magazines already give us?” Ben pointed out.

“So what? They give them to us because they think we’re cool.”

“They think I’m cool, but definitely not you,” Number Three teased. Number Two stuck his tongue out in her direction.

“Alright your majesty, so what’s your name gonna be?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something stylish but not too outlandish. Like classy, in an elegant kind of way.”

“Maybe Charlotte?” Number Seven suggested.

“Nah, I don’t want people calling me Charlie. I am  _so_  not a Charlie.”

“While you workshop that, I will be naming myself Klaus,” announced Number Four.

“Klaus?” Number One questioned with a subtle look of condemnation.

“Yeah! It’s different, it’s memorable, and it’s…” Number Four mumbled the last part.

“It’s what?” asked Number Five.

“It’s the name of my favorite book character ok?” Number Four said, eyes fixated on the fireplace as his cheeks burned red. Ben smiled next to him.

“Really? Klaus is your favorite character? I would’ve thought you resonated more with Count Olaf. I mean, you do have a similar taste in fashion and flare for the dramatic,” Number Three jabbed.

“Hey! I am not Count Olaf! And his outfits are way tacky, I am honestly offended that you would compare the two of us,” Number Four feigned hurt. “And I like Klaus he’s… smart. He uses knowledge to figure things out and create stuff. And he doesn’t get scared, because he knows he can always find a way to escape, and that he has his family to help him out if he can’t.”

Number Four didn’t want to say it out loud but Klaus was kind of his hero. He dreamt of being as smart as he was, desperate to offer some sort of offensive skill to their team. He knew what the others thought about him sometimes when they went on missions. Sure he was no Number Seven, he did have certified powers after all, but his abilities didn’t really serve in stopping bank robbers or rescuing civilians. And secretly, Number Four always admired Number Six, or Ben now it seemed, for his intelligence. Sometimes he would ask questions while he was reading just to hear him explain the intricacies of some military term or seventeenth century city he didn’t care about simply because he liked to hear someone who knew things talk about them. And, unbeknownst to the others, the two of them would sometimes sneak into each others rooms at night and go under the covers with flashlights to read ahead in their story time books. It never bothered Number Four to hear the chapters again on Sunday, and Ben didn’t seem to mind telling them for a second time.

The rest of the group sat silently for a moment taking in his words. It wasn’t often that Number Four seemed to think something through this thoroughly and then decide to share it. As loud and outgoing as he could be, he never really talked about things of substance. They all knew that he dealt with issues they didn’t—it’s hard not to hear him scream in his nightmares when it reverberates through a silent mansion in the dead of night—but that part of Number Four is always tucked very far away from the sunlight and from the others. Whether that was by choice or necessity, no one was really sure.

“I think it’s perfect… Klaus,” Number Seven encouraged, placing her hand lightly over his and giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you! You can be my Violet Seven,” Klaus smiled and squeezed her hand back. The gesture, both physical and metaphorical with the naming of her as his partner in crime, lit Number Seven’s face with joy.

“Maybe I will be Violet,” she agreed, almost in a whisper.

“Whatever. I’m going to be named Rocket,” Number Two boasted.

~

Number Two was not named Rocket.

Grace met with each of them the next day before dinner to discuss the choices they had come up with and to make sure that they would be Reginald approved, as they were to announce them at the close of the evening’s meal.

Because Number One arrived bearing no opinion on the matter, he picked a name at random from a pre-approved list that their father had drawn up. He felt smug, knowing that this would likely please his father since he was sure that none of his other siblings would dare give up the chance to not let their father decide something. His name, second row and third from the bottom, would be Luther.

Number Two was not happy when all of his name choices were shot down by Grace. He argued that she should be on his side and say screw it to what their father wanted, to which she replied that there were no sides and that he should not use “screw” in that context. He refused to pick from the pre-approved list, so the two of them workshopped a few choices before landing on something Number Two felt was cool enough and that Grace thought Reginald would sign off on. Number Two’s name would be Diego.

Number Three had spent all night going back and forth between names. She was flipping through a magazine when she landed on a photo of a smiling girl, teeth white and head thrown back in laughter, with a quote about how much fun she was having with her friends at this summer’s newest water park attraction. Her fingers stalled on the page, locking eyes with the girl in the photo and wishing that she could trade places with her. She couldn’t help herself from choosing the name scribbled across the model’s photo in bright pink, and so Number Three would be Allison.

To his surprise, Number Four’s name choice was approved without much debate. Grace felt the name was robust and reasonable, which would make Reginald happy, and that it was just as unique as Number Four himself. Without much fuss, Number Four was granted his request and would be Klaus.

Number Six faired similarly to Number Four. His choice in name didn’t spark much concern from Grace, other than the modification that his name must be officially documented in its full version. And so, Number Six would be Ben (officially Benjamin).

Although Number Seven proposed the name Violet to Grace, she was shot down as their father had apparently ruled against the use of colors as names. After seeing her disappoint, Grace compromised by agreeing to let her keep a V name. Number Seven had always loved languages, her favorite being Russian, so Grace decided to choose a name to match. Number Seven would be Vanya.

Number Five would disappear that night during the dinner at which they were all to announce their names. When he didn’t return by the meal’s end, Reginald decided to proceed without him. The children all presented their names, Vanya having to prompt Ben as he had left a customary place for Five to speak in between him and Klaus. When Number Five failed to return late into that night, the kids all snuck into the library one by one, each finding the others waiting for them in a mutual state of insomnia, feeling the need to return to a place of solace and escape. They lit a dim fire and huddled close together, leaning in to hear Ben as he read the book in a whispered tone. Their day of happiness had been overtaken by one of fear and loss, and as each child revelled in their new names they couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing that somewhere out there, Number Five was still just a number.


End file.
